


Your Words

by Symph95



Series: Bokuaka Week 2020 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, BokuAka Week 2020, Boys In Love, College, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slight Manga Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:07:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symph95/pseuds/Symph95
Summary: Bokuto wasn't good at a lot of things: words, standing up to people, advice. But Akaashi filled in those gaps.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: Bokuaka Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860532
Kudos: 28
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	Your Words

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello there! I hope you are all enjoying your week and enjoy this as well :D

The weight of Bokuto’s backpack lifted as Akaashi grabbed it from his shoulders. He’d been complaining about it’s heaviness from the books he carried and gifts he received from graduation.

“If it’s too much, I can carry it,” Akaashi said as Bokuto made a grab for it. “It’s your last day afterall.”

Bokuto opened his mouth to protest but closed it, opting instead to tread with Akaashi over the school grounds. A thick scarf wrapped around his neck as the final drafts of winter blew through the air. He nestled his volleyball jacket around him, the faint scent of the gym clinging to it. How long could it go without getting washed?

The evening sun was just setting over the horizon as the two stopped at the gate of the school. Bokuto stared at the buildings, clutching his diploma in his right hand.

“I’m going to come visit you next year,” Bokuto said. “They can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“Hopefully Coach Yamiji let’s you. He seemed rather excited to see you gone.”

“Akaashi don’t call me out like that.”

Bokuto pouted as Akaashi offered him a flat smile. “You’re going to miss me, right? That’s enough reason for me to visit.”

Akaashi hummed and hoisted Bokuto’s backpack higher. 

“You’re going to be playing at Waseda University, correct?” Akaashi asked. “So you’ll be in Tokyo?”

“Yep! Our season starts early April, like a week after we get there. We’re not competing for a while though,” Bokuto said. “But you still didn’t answer my question!”

“I’ll be able to visit you then, since you’re in Tokyo,” Akaashi said. “So I won’t have to miss you.” 

Bokuto blinked, his brain whirling for a second before his engine kicked in and his light shined through his smile. 

“So you will miss me!”

Akaashi caught his gaze and smiled. He clutched Bokuto’s bag tighter and nodded his head to the side.

“Should we get going? The party starts soon.”

“Oh yeah, I totally forgot, let’s go!” Bokuto said. “I’ll race you to the train station!”

“While I carry both of our bookbags?”

“You’re strong, I’m sure you can do it.”

“Oh sorry I forgot all about the muscles I don’t have.”

His room was too small for all his books and his desk. One bedroom with two beds, a tiny kitchen, and an even tinier living space was the extent of what he had to work with. But his dad insisted that he needed the twenty business books that he knew would collect dust. Bokuto tried shoving them under his bed, but there were too many and he kept tripping over them. 

“What’s with all the business books?” His roommate, Kuroo, asked on their first day. “I expected you to have a sports science degree.” 

“My dad made me major in business.” Bokuto said. 

“Really? I thought you hated math.”

“I do.” 

College started three weeks earlier and the bags under Bokuto’s eyes nearly reached the floor. His father insisted that he read the lifeless books and started doing checks to make sure Bokuto had. On top of that, he kept trying to change everything about Bokuto’s lifestyle including the desk that had become his living area. 

“I come home to this,” Kuroo said.

The groceries he was carrying hit the floor as he walked over and inspected the glass surrounding Bokuto. Two of the four walls of the living area were desk with the TV making up the third, and a couch that smelled like a dead body was thrown next to the outrageously large work space.

“I’m sorry, I tried to stop him, but he insisted,” Bokuto said.

He groaned into his hands with a book open about how to talk to customers. Mountains of text smiled back at his drooped head. His lip split.

“Are those even more books?” Bokuto nodded. “And here I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”

“It will if I don’t pick up my grades,” Bokuto said. 

The couch squealed under Kuroo’s weight. A cloud of death swarmed Bokuto, and he gagged. 

“Aren’t you here for volleyball? I thought business was just a backup.”

Unlike Bokuto, Kuroo was at Waseda for actually being smart and was actually getting a real business degree. He played club volleyball for the university but didn’t make the division one team. 

Bokuto scoffed. “Tell my dad that. He’s all ‘you’re the heir to our throne of electronics and you must follow all these guidelines’.” 

“Just tell him off. You don’t have to listen to him.”

“My dad? CEO of the biggest electronics company in  _ Japan.  _ Tell him off? I’m lucky he’s even letting me play volleyball.”

The ice in Kuroo’s drink clattered against the edges. “Then don’t take his company. When he dies just say you will then don’t.”

“That’s… morbid,” Bokuto said. He wondered if that was the correct word.

“Hey I’m trying to get you out of this. I’d say stand up to him.”

“I—”

A knock on the door interrupted him. Bokuto’s head flung up, and shot up from his chair, the book falling off the desk and hitting the ground. Racing to the door, he threw it open.

“Akaashi you came!”

Akaashi hugged his jacket closer to him and raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I thought it might’ve been too far. I mean, you haven’t visited yet,” Bokuto said.

“Because every time I text you, you say you’re busy.”

“He’s got you there,” Kuroo yelled from the living room.

Bokuto let out a laugh and scratched at his ears. He shuffled to the edge of the doorway as Akaashi waltzed in, a bag in his hands.

“How are you doing Kuroo-san?” Akaashi said.

“I’m doing as good as someone can living with this guy,” Kuroo said jutting a thumb at Bokuto. “Headaches for days.”

“I have a pain reliever if you need it.”

“That’d be great actually.”

“You guys are awful.”

Akaashi shook his head and unpacked his bag at the counter, pulling out their dinner. After two months of straight ramen, the barbequed meat and grilled fish glowed. The heavenly smell was actually able to override the couch.

Setting everything out on paper plates, everyone dug in. Bokuto told Akaashi about all his recent training while Kuroo explained the problems from his calculus class. He listened while picking at his onigiri.

“How’s everything going at Fukurodani?” Bokuto asked.

“Pretty good, the first years are talented and have great potential,” Akaashi said. “But many are missing the basics. Onaga is doing well this year with the other second years. The team is slowly coming together.”

“Your first tournament is coming up, how do you think it will go?” Kuroo asked. 

Akaashi looked at Bokuto before letting out a sigh. “It will… be different, but we’ll do well.”

Bokuto’s muscles tensed. The smell of meat and fish turned sour. Bokuto placed down his chopsticks. 

“How has college been treating you two?” he asked as silence began to take shape.

“For me, I’m living aside from calc,” Kuroo said. “This one is not doing so hot.”

Bokuto cowered under Akaashi’s raised brow. He filled his mouth in order to keep from embarrassing himself. 

“You know how I’m a business major?” Akaashi nodded. “Well my dad is wanting me to take over his company so he’s piling all this extra work on me. It’s frustrating and not fun at all, I mean look at these! Who in their right mind would want to read them?”

Akaashi chuckled. “You have a point there.”

“See? And somehow he expects  _ me  _ to read them in addition to my work  _ and  _ volleyball.”

Bokuto let out an exasperated sound and buried his head in his hands. He rubbed at his face, tugging his eye bags down even farther than they already drooped over his face. 

“He also checks and gives me quizzes and says if I can’t ace those and my current ones then I can’t play volleyball.”

“So he’s really expecting you to take over his business?”

Bokuto nodded whilst burying his head deeper. 

Akaashi hummed. “Just try your best on his quizzes but don’t make them a big deal. You’re personable, anyone would like you if they met you, so don’t focus on his business expectations as much.”

Bokuto peeked an eye from behind his hands. “Really?”

“Really. College is supposed to teach you everything you know to succeed, not how to be just like your father. So don’t worry about it as much. You’ll be fine.”

A grin pulled up Bokuto’s face and he launched himself into Akaashi. His arms wrapped around him as Akaashi stared down, muscles tensing every so slightly.

“Thank you so much! You’re really the best!”

“No problem. Just trying to be a friend.”

  
  


By the middle of the semester Bokuto was about to explode. The books had multiplied. Pages were torn out and scattered around the living room. Kuroo said it looked like a snowball fight had broken out. Bokuto vs his father’s business books, who was going to win?

From the energy drain of only sleeping two hours a night, Bokuto had to say that the books were pulling out ahead. 

Muscles screaming and head pounding, he dragged himself through the door and threw himself on his couch. His body was engulfed in the scent of dead bodies. At this point it wasn’t that far off.

“I was going to ask how your practice was, but I’m pretty sure I can tell,” Kuroo said. He popped his head out his door and waded out, careful to give Bokuto space.

“I don’t think I can move,” Bokuto said. The taste of death filled his mouth, and he gagged. A splash of cold greeted his neck and he shot up. 

Kuroo held out a cup of water. Bokuto downed the whole thing in one gulp and buried his face back into the couch.

“I have a game Saturday, a midterm Monday and my dad pushing to start training Sunday. I don’t think I can handle this,” Bokuto said. “I’m actually going to die.”

“Now don’t be like that,” Kuroo said. “Where’s the whole ‘I just wanna have fun’ attitude?”

“The walking dead have no fun,” Bokuto said. “You try living off two hours of sleep.”

“Kenma only sleeps one, and I don’t see him wilting everywhere he goes.”

“He must be a vampire or something.”

Kuroo cracked a smile and moved Bokuto’s legs to sit on the couch. Dragging his limbs together, Bokuto finally pulled himself to a sitting position. Every muscle in his body screamed as he did so. The thought of skipping practice grew tempting.

“Speaking of Kenma, he’s at the summer camp,” Kuroo said. “Do you want to go crash it?”

“Don’t think I can make it to the door.” Pain throbbed through his legs, and he let them go slack in front of him. It did nothing. 

“Come on slacker, it’ll be fun,” Kuroo said. “You’ll get to see that favorite setter again.”

That idea was tempting. 

Kuroo whistled.“So the pup’s got his tail wagging.”

“Shut up!”

Bokuto stood, glaring down at Kuroo. He stepped away, going to the kitchen to put his glass away. The conversation took a quick turn to a topic he didn’t need to explore. 

“Someone is in love,” Kuroo said. 

“I’m not in love. We’re  _ friends, _ ”

“Sure that’s why you light up at the very mention of your  _ friend,  _ Akaashi.”

“I don’t do that!”

“You do.”

“Do not.”

“You do.”

Bokuto gripped the edge of the sink to keep himself from chucking a plate at Kuroo’s head. Instead, he glared down at the metal and tried to push Akaashi’s smile out of his head. He turned on the water and sprayed his glass down.

“So you’re coming?” Kuroo asked. 

“Fine.”

The bus and train rides to Fukurodani were quick. A half hour passed and they were at the school. Bokuto looked over the large buildings and his heart gave a tug. His muscles eased down, and the soreness disappeared. He inclined forward, his lips turned upwards.

“That's the first time you’ve smiled all semester,” Kuroo said. “I told you it was a good idea.” 

“For once you’re right.”

` “Huh, what did you say?”

“You’re never going to hear that again.” 

Kuroo slapped Bokuto’s back as he let out a laugh. He joined in, for once feeling that he was at home. 

  
  


Finally the year came to an end. Grades were in and Boktuo barely passed. He stared at the 65s on his screen and let out a breath he’d been holding since April. Somehow, his schedule of five am practices and studying until three am worked. 

And the volleyball team had won their tournament, coming first in their championship. While that was last December, Bokuto still grinned at the thought of it. 

His first year of university was a success with only the baggage being constant exhaustion. In a few weeks it would all start again, but Bokuto blocked that out of his mind. Instead, he opted for sleeping as long he could to make up for a year of insomnia.

At three o’clock, his phone went off. He twisted in his sheets, gagging at the taste of cardboard in his mouth. The sunlight blinded him as he felt around for his phone. A jolt ran through him when his fingertips brushed against it. He raised the device to his ear not bothering to check the ID.

“Hmm,” he croaked.

“What are these?” the voice cut though.

The sunlight grew dimmer as a cloud passed through the sky. Bokuto’s mouth grew sour, the taste of cardboard replaced.

“What are what?”

“Your grades.”

Bokuto gulped and sat up straight. His covers fell around him in a messy puddle. 

“What about them?”

“Are you kidding me? 60s?  _ Passing?  _ This is unacceptable,” Bokuto’s father roared through the phone. “I said at  _ least  _ in the 70s, and the best you could do was a 69.”

Limbs twisted around one another as Bouto curled in on himself.“I’m sorry, dad I tried my best.”

“I don’t think you did,” his father said. “That whole  _ volleyball  _ thing is messing with your grades and career. I knew it was a bad idea to put you in both. You’re so lazy you can’t handle it”

“I’m sorry.”

“Call the school. You’re resigning from the volleyball team.”

Bokuto exploded off his covers. “What?”

“You’re quitting.”

“I can’t, dad this is the one thing I have—”

“Do you want a career or not? If you play volleyball you  _ won’t  _ have one. You think a professional division team would choose someone like you? No, you’re meant to take over my company. I’ve been preparing you for this for  _ years.  _ Longer than you’ve even known what a volleyball is. This is final Koutarou. You won’t be playing next year.”

“But I—”

The phone clicked off. The sunlight disappeared, instead replaced by cloudy skies that threatened rain. When the first sound of thunder struck the air, Bokuto sank to his knees. He stared at the device in his hands before chucking it into the corner of the room.

He curled up on himself, holding his quivering lip. Dark bags pulled down his eyes. Death crawled into his mouth and stained his skin. His hair flopped in his face, and he didn’t move to brush it out of his eyes.

Rain pelted the roof of the apartment as he cried with it. Thunder went off the same time his phone buzzed. It chimed angrily, demanding attention. Lifting his head, Bokuto barely had the energy to grab it.

He didn’t say anything as he slid it open. The screaming was bound to come soon, mind as well accept it.

But the voice was soft, a whisper of sunlight. 

“Bokuto-san?”

Head raising, he parted his lips ever so slightly. A soft ‘o’ was made. 

“What’s up Akaashi?” Bokuto said. 

“I was calling to see if we were still on for lunch,” Akaashi said. “You said you wanted to celebrate but when I called, Kuroo answered and said you were asleep.”

“Oh shoot, I’m so sorry,” Bokuto said. “Yeah we’re still on. What time were we meeting again?”

“Three thirty. I’m right outside, but I didn’t want to startle you.”

“Oh, I see. Give me a second.”

His voice gave out at the end. He tried to stand, but his legs were shaky and he had to balance on the edge of his bed for support.

“Are you alright?” Akaashi asked.

Bokuto froze. He licked his lips and brushed his bangs from his eyes. “I’m doing alright. Let me explain over food. Be out in five minutes.”

“O...kay.”

Bokuto moved to go get his life together.

  
  


“Wow,” Akaashi said. “That’s insane.”

“I know. I have no clue what to do.”

The coffee shop around them was blazing with chatter. Couples smiled gently at each other, sipping their coffee and talking softly. Warm brown eased Bokuto’s back down even with the clatter of a keyboard behind him. The coffee in front of him grounded him and spread energy through his veins. 

Over Akaashi’s tea, he’d spilled all the information about his father’s demands. Akaashi stirred his chai slower and slower until he stopped completely.

He stared down into the liquid and gave it a small sip.

“Well what do you want to do?”

Bokuto blinked at the question. Akaashi must’ve spoken a foreign language.

“Truthfully? I want to focus on volleyball. I’m good, the school knows I’m good. And it’s the only place that puts me at ease,” he said. “It’s stressful but in a good way. Not like my dad’s company. I  _ enjoy  _ it. I love it. And I don't want to stop.”

“Have you told him that?”

“He won’t  _ listen _ .”

“Then don’t listen to him,” Akaashi said. “I’m going to Waseda instead of Chuo against my parents wishes. You can do the same.”

“But you’re  _ Akaashi.  _ And you’re amazing.”

“So are you.” 

Bokuto’s heart stuttered ever so slightly. A blanket draped over him, hugging him close and filling him with a warmth he never found before. His lips curled upwards and he took another sip of his coffee. It wasn’t hot nor was it too cold. Perfect.

_ Just like Akaashi.  _

“Thank you,” Bokuto said. “You really are the best.” 

Akaashi pulled back and stared into his tea. His hands chased each other under the table, a small grin upturned his lips.

“Thank you. I’m happy I can help. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

This couldn’t be done over a phone call. It wouldn’t have the same effect and the result would probably be nothing more Bokuto getting yelled at. So he went home, just for the weekend. Scratch that, a day which hopefully wouldn’t even be a  _ full  _ day. Just a talk then he was leaving. Akaashi had helped him with the plan.

Bokuto stared up at the third story and gulped. His grip on his bag tightened. Part of him wanted to turn around, but he forced his legs forward and rang the doorbell.

The door stayed locked for a couple minutes. Bokuto fidgeted at the door and readied to knock again, but before he did so, a voice called from inside.

“Who is it?”

“Koutarou.”

A buzz echoed through the air. Bokuto inhaled sharply as he pushed at the door. The dark expanse of the entrance way greeted his eyes. Blindly, he pushed his way to the kitchen where his mother sat at the counter sifting through piles of paper. She looked up at him and grinned.

“There’s my sweetie pie,” she said. “How are you doing?”

“Alright,” Bokuto said.

“What brings you back here? You never visit except on holidays.”

The bang of footsteps echoed from upstairs. Bokuto flinched and gave a glance upwards.

“ _ That. _ ”

“Oh, your father? He isn’t in the best mood today if you were going to talk to him. One of his trading partners canceled on him. He’s pretty upset about it. Maybe talk to him tomorrow?”

A shout came from upstairs.

Bokuto trembled. But he sucked in a deep breath and sent his mother a smile.

“This isn’t something that can wait, thank you for concern though.”

Akaashi told him to say that if things were going downhill. Bokuto’s mother gave a skeptical glance.

“Okay Koutarou, good luck with that.”

She uttered his name flatly and buried herself in her papers again. 

Turning from her, Bokuto made his way to the stairs. Their steepness looked down at him, but he tiptoed up them to the third floor. The silver door to his father’s office was locked, but it did nothing to keep out the sound of his father’s voice

Bokuto straightened his back, and held out his hand. He rapped at the door.

“What is it?” his father’s voice boomed on the other side. Poison laced the edges of his tone.

“It’s Koutarou. I need to talk to you.”

Bokuto was certain that his father would tell him off. His muscles were already tensed and the words already on his tongue to fight back if his father tried to kick him out. Instead, the lock clicked out of place.

Staring at the door, Bokuto checked that he heard the sound correctly. When he tested hinges, it swung open. Akaashi’s words at the ready from the paragraph tucked in his brain, he crossed the threshold in the war zone.

His father sat at his desk, his weapon by his ear. He talked into the device, cursing at the person on the other line. Bokuto walked through and stood by the black chair on the other side. His father didn’t even glance at him. He continued screaming into his phone.

Bokuto cleared his throat and his father’s eyes acknowledged him. He held up a finger, said something and cut the line. His phone dropped to the desk, the screen threatening Bokuto.

“Why are you here? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“I need to talk to you about… school,” Bokuto said.

His father scoffed. “What about it? You have your schedule? Clean up your grades and you’ll be fine. I don’t see what more needs to be done.”

“I changed my schedule. I wanted to talk about—”

The phone went off again. Bokuto’s father glanced between it and Bokuto. A smile crawled over his face.

“Pick it up,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“I said pick it up,” his father said. “You’re going to take over my company soon. This will be a test to see what you have learned. I won’t listen to what you say unless you pick it up. Otherwise, I’m throwing you out.”

Bokuto gulped and he stared down at the device pointing back at him. The phone number was so foreign, he couldn’t even recognize the area code. But he sucked in a breath, met his father’s eyes and picked it up.

His father beamed.

“Hello?” the voice on the other side said.

Bokuto drew back his shoulders, puffed out his chest and raised his chin. “Hello.”

“Who is this?”

“Bokuto’s son.”

“Oh, Koutarou-kun? This is Gorou from Canon. Are you here as a representative from your father’s company?”

Bokuto met his father’s eyes and held his gaze. “No, I am not. I am here to tell you that whatever my father has told you about what I’m going to be is false. I’m changing majors to sports medicine and am going to become a professional volleyball player. I am sorry if this is a waste of time for you.”

“Um, excuse me sir I don’t understand.”

“Please call my father later as I will be going to play volleyball with some friends tonight. In addition, my father will be doing all proceedings for his company until he retires and will be the last one from our family to do so.”

He hit the red button and placed the phone on the desk. Meeting the enraged eyes of his father, he grinned.

When Bokuto arrived at Fukurodani, he felt half deaf but his chin was held high. He pushed open the doors with a force he never knew he possessed.

“Look who finally showed up,” Kuroo said. “Here I was thinking you were going chicken out on us.”

“And miss the chance to beat you?” Bokuto said. “No way in hell.”

Bokuto strode through the doors, throwing on his shoes and stretching quickly. Afterwards, he made his way to Akaashi, flashing a smile at him and holding up two thumbs. Akaashi brightened.

“It went well?”

“All thanks to you,” Bokuto said. “Those big words came in handy. I think I even used them correctly. Like that one word, proseddings?”

Akaashi chuckled. “It’s proceedings, and I’m very proud of you. I told you, you’re amazing and can do anything you want.” 

Bokuto’s chest puffed out, and he grinned brighter than the stars. His stomach swam with sunlight as he leaned forwards.

“Hey love birds!” Kuroo called, breaking them apart. “Are we playing or are you two making out?”

Bokuto pulled away, his face flashing red. He rubbed at the back of his neck turning to the court. “That’s not—”

“I didn’t come here for you guys to bicker all day,” Kenma said. “Now we’re either playing or I’m leaving.”

Both Kuroo and Bokuto’s mouths snapped shut and they took to the court.

The rest of the night continued without a hitch. To celebrate the graduations of their friends, they played three matches of three on threes. Fukunaga, Akaashi and Bokuto were on a team while Kenma, Taketora and Kuroo were on the other. 

Of the games, Bokuto’s team won two while Kuroo’s won the other. He laughed when they beat them out in the third match saying that their team would always be superior.

“You’re just a big teenage bully picking on little kids,” Kuroo said.

After the games finished, they all set off to go their separate ways. Kenma invited Kuroo to his place while Taketora and Fukunaga headed home. That left Akaashi and Bokuto.

“Do you wanna hang out a little longer?” Bokuto asked. “It’s only ten.”

Akaashi’s fingers fiddled with each. He opened his mouth to speak, but Bokuto beat him to it.

“I mean it’s fine if you can’t the train ride is long I know so—”

“I’ll come over.”

Bokuto blinked. He must’ve lost his hearing from his dad yelling. 

“Wait really?” Akaashi nodded. “Awesome! Well then, let’s not waste another second. We can put on a movie if you want. I found this really cool adventuring one.”

Akaashi grinned at him and nodded. “That would be fun to watch. But first, let’s get something to eat, or do you have food?”

“We could cook something. I’m kind of broke…”

“That’s fine.”

They proceeded to nearly blow up the kitchen, or at least Bokuto did. He put the skillet on high and poured oil all over it, catching it on the growing heat. Luckily, Akaashi’s experience with his own brother’s cooking allowed him to put it out. 

In the end, they sat with a pizza between them lying on the couch. Bokuto’s heart was beating hard, and Akaashi kept distracting him from the movie. His small comments were a siren’s song and his laugh was sunshine.

Bokuto licked his lips and tried to focus on the film.

“So what did you say to your dad?” Akaashi asked as the movie dragged into a slow part.

Bokuto leaned back against the still-death-smelling couch. “I told him that I was going to play volleyball instead of taking over his company.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Well, thanks. I just realized that I would rather be doing the things I loved instead of becoming his robot and hating everything. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Bokuto met Akaashi’s eyes and something sparked within him.

That word repeated in his head, dancing through his mind until he finally understood it.

_ Love.  _

Those sunshine smiles, the way the world was supported in his arms, and every single piece of encouragement he heard. 

Love was in volleyball, but love was also in Akaashi.

Bokuto blinked, and he found Akaashi’s eyes staring back. Those eyes that listened and gave advice. Those eyes that never left his side. Those eyes that were always there.

“I’m in love,” Bokuto said.

“What?”

Bokuto jerked back, scratching at his ears. The room grew warm and his hands grew clammy. When he looked up, Akaashi inclined forwards. Without the pizza box, they would be touching. 

“I need some more advice, if that’s okay?”

“What is it?”

“If you really like someone, like really like, how would you say it?”

“I love you?”

And the world stopped. That sunshine smile was the only that existed. It burned into Bokuto’s chest, filling it with warmth. His body eased and he grinned.

“I love you too.”

Akaashi blinked, pulling away. His hands were fiddling again. “What did—”

“I said I love you.”   
“I,” Akaashi said. “Never thought you would say that.”

Bokuto cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

“Because you always said we were friends,” Akaashi said. “I didn’t think it’d go farther then that.”

“It can,” Bokuto said. “Only if you want to though. I don’t want to—”

“I love you too, Koutarou.”

And ease spread through Bokuto. His name uttered in such softness, in such compassion, in such  _ love.  _ A love that supported him through everything, his lows, his highs and everything in between. A love that would always be there.

“I love you too,  _ Keiji. _ ”


End file.
